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DOBELL COLLECTION 



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THE PHENOMENON; 



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Uttttktt Uttg^tlang. 



1856. 



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lonoos : 
Cst-MAN, Printer, 42, Albany Street, Regent's Park. 



205449 
'13 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

Dedication . . . . . .1 

The Millhall Alphabet . . . 9 

From Innistymon to Galway . . . .13 

" The Charitable Trusts Amendment Act 1855 " . . 34 

The Charity Commission Alphabet . . . .43 

From " The Cuckfield Polite Intelligencer " , . . 46 

Coelebs in Difficulties . . . . .51 

The Marylebone Gardens Literary Association . . 60 

A Legend of St. Clement's Caves . . .63 

A Tragedy in Real Life . . . . 90 

Oddments . . . . . .93 

Epistles Dedicatory . . . 99 

Epitaph on My Ugly Dog Rose . . .106 



DEDICATED 

(not by ant means) 
TO 

J. M. E. and E. E. 

BY 
THEIR ENTHUSIASTIC ADMIRER, 

THE AUTHOR. 



DEDICATION. 



Forasmuch as, my beauties, this cool dedication 
Has moved your (I own it is just) indignation ; 
I'll make you amends, so come hither my lasses 
And take a small peep through my opera glasses. 
Now open your eyes, and I'll show to you soon 
Something much farther off and more strange than the 

moon. 
Be steady, the focus is right " to a T," 
And presently " you shall see vot you shall see," 

[As the exhibitors of half-penny peepshows say.] 

b 2 



The year 1900; the time, afternoon; 

Weather, sultry, as commonly happens in June, 

So much for the date ; now imagine a scene, 

A park, with broad acres of woodland and green ; 

To finish the picture, suppose, if you please, 

A stately old mansion embosomed in trees ; 

Broad-antlered proud red-deer in grave stately groups, 

And their small spotted cousins in merry bright troops ; 

Add plenty of these, and you'll then have complete 

Sir Henry Deer Parker's magnificent seat. 

Now, my dears, upon closer inspection you'll see 

Sir H.'s good wife, Lady Henry D. P. 

Benign in her look, and still bearing the trace, 

Though aged, of many a juvenile grace ; 

And still quite sufficiently lovely to prove 

Sir Henry's good taste in the choice of his love. 

In an arbour she sits, and she sits so entranced 

With a book, that Sir H. has, unheeded, advanced. 

" I'm glad that you manage so well to beguile 



This dull afternoon," said our knight with a smile ; 
" But I really am curious, dearest, to know 
What that manuscript is which amuses you so." 
" Indeed, my dear love, 'tisn't anything new, 
Nor what would in any way interest you ; 
Some scraps of bad prose and indifferent rhymes 
Composed by my brother in byegone old times." 

" O that brother, named William I think, whom 
you said 
Was gone to Australia, and probably dead." 

The krtight took the book, but he soon put it down, 
And the only critique he vouchsafed was a frown. 
Then said Lady Parker, "I see by your look 
What your kindness forbids you to say of my book. 
That the prose is uncommonly foolish, is true, 
And the Muse whom my poet invoked, a sad ' screw.' 
But strangely enough 'tis that folly I prize, 
And the old childish nonsense refreshes my eyes : 
They remind mc of days that will never come back 



(Time will not retrace e'en his pleasantest track) 

Of incidents, games, jokes, and frolics they tell, 

When I was 'Old Tom'— Mrs. Mortimer, 'Nell.' 

They bring too a pleasing, half-sad, recollection 

Of the various pets of our early affection ; 

Of Tilly, Puss, Jupy, and darling old Billy, 

And divers strange favourites petted by Willy. 

Hereby too small traits are to memory led 

Of friends, altered, married, lost sight of, or dead ; 

And pleasures of childhood, thought great, ere I knew 

Felicity's acme, in marrying you.'' 

The Bishop had dined, as such dignities ought, 
On turtle, fish, venison, brown sherry, and port. 
'Twas natural then he should feel inclination 
For a little grave, dignified, calm contemplation. 
The episcopal eyes were so tranquilly closed, 
That the very profane might have said that he dozed . 
Though grunts, not especially musical, proved 



By what deep disquisitions his spirit was moved. 
At length a loud snort, mighty-thundering, broke 
Philosophical mists, and, in fact, he awoke. 
To conceal what had happened he manfully tried 
By opening his eyes very painfully wide ; 
And when understanding returned to his look, 
He perceived Mrs. Mortimer reading a book. 
" My Eleanor, what are you reading?" 

" Some scraps 
By my brother, you'd like to peruse them, perhaps." 

He looked at three pages, and found that enough ; 
And said " Really, my dear, this is terrible stuff. 
Your brother of course is exempt from abuse, 
But I'm glad that his sister is not such a goose." 

4t Dear George, you must know, that that brother oi 
mine 
Was a goose in a very peculiar line, 
He liked these small scraps, though so dismally bad, 
Much better than anything else which he had. 



(The reason I need not enlarge on to you. 

But I've similar causes for liking them too ; 

For here are some strokes by a wittier hand, 

And spangles of gold are washed down in the sand) : 

And so, a small compliment wishing to pay, 

(For he loved us both much in a rough sulky way), 

He thought it might please Lady Parker and me 

To dedicate to us his volume you see ; 

So when of your beautiful sermons you show me none, 

I shall take, ' unbeknown,' a sly sip of 

'Phenomenon.' " 



THE MILLHALL ALPHABET. 



DEDICATED TO MISS E. EKLE. 



A is this Alphabet, written for you, 

And stands for the Attics, the "back " and the "blue." 

B is that sturdy antique Blunder-buss, 

Which an enemy's views would concisely discuss, 

For its big brazen barrel and menacing muzzle 

Form arguments likely to prove a stiff puzzle 

Should any queer gentleman feel inclination 

To drop in at midnight without invitation, 

Though if the strict actual truth must be known, 

I'd rather be shot at than fire it, I own. 



10 



C are those pairs of preposterous legs 
Whence a cataract rushes of little brown eggs ; 
We allude to those utterly comical creatures, 
The Cochins, a practical joke of Dame Nature's, 
D the Ducklings so awkwardly waddling about, 
Like rustic militiamen newly called out ; 
See how they go carelessly quacking at ease 
'Midst onion and sage beds, and rows of green peas, 
Unsuspecting (such ignorance darkens their minds) 
What link their own fate to those esculents binds. 
E would have been that adorable She, 
Could any have deigned Millhall's mistress to be ; 
As it is, it must tolerate standing for me. 
F is the legion of Frogs who contrive 
In the cellar on mildew and sawdust to thrive. 
G is the " Gai-ery " teeming with girls, 
Piled up to the ceiling with stacks of Miss Erles. 
H are the Hollies, the garden which grace, 
(Entre nous, there is nought of the kind near the 
place ! ) 



11 



J is the Jessamine covered with bloom, 
Which fills all the house with delicious perfume. 
K the bright Kettle at breakfast they bring ; 
L the logs which persuade the said kettle to sing. 
M is our jack-of-all-trades, Mary Ellis, 
Who butler, page, footman, and housemaid as well, is. 
N are the Nettles — deuce take 'em ! and O 
The Oranges which in our hothouse would grow, 
That is, if we had one ; 'twill also denote 
The Onions, whence perfumes, not " Araby's," float. 
P is the Poney we wish we could buy, 
And that wonderful Pond so excessively dry. 
Q, what is Q, ? that's a difficult question ; 
T would stand for a Quince-tree well, if we possessed 

one. 
II are the Rabbits we purpose to get, 
And the Roses which match not your cheeks my old 

pet. 
S the Storeroom, where marvellous treasures we hoard . 



12 



For therein a small cheese and three candles are stored. 

T stands for the trees, limes, ashes, and firs. 

U — we sigh for a notion, but nothing occurs. 

V represents the swift veloci-pede, 

A nag, economical very, to feed. 

A drink from a paint-pot is all that he begs, 

With occasional spoonfuls of oil for his legs. 

W is the Witt,* rubicund and rotund, 

And, if her name meriting, likewise jo-cund. 

Neither X, Y, nor Z, any subject will fit, 

You must tackle them please with the aid of a " Witt." 



* Late housekeeper. 



FROM INNISTYMON TO GALWAY, 



You have never seen the west-coast of Ireland? Then 
that is a great treat to come. My first introduction to 
its glories took place on a bright morning in October, 
under the most favourable auspices. The sky was un- 
speakably blue ; the air sharp and clear ; and the sun 
of the concentrated brilliancy of all the new sixpences 
ever issued from the mint. The equinoctial gales, which 
had lately set in with considerable force from the 
north-west, brought up occasionally dark banks of 
clouds, with heavy scuds of rain, so that every thing 
conspired to produce the most magnificent effects of 



14 



light and shadow. Shortly after we left a small place 
called Innistymon, in the County Clare, on the road to 
Liscanor Bay, the broad Atlantic burst suddenly into 
view, reflecting the deep iodine hue of the sky in an 
immeasurable expanse of purple, edged along the coast 
with a narrow fringe of snow-white foam. Just north 
of Liscanor, are the celebrated Moher Cliffs, starting 
black and precipitous from the water's edge, and 
pretty well swilled, no doubt, by the " impetuous 
surge," when a rolling swell from the Atlantic " flings 
to shore its mustered force " during a gale from the 
south-west. It is well worth while to clamber down to 
the beach, when the tide is out, to survey from below 
the stern and swarthy majesty of these tremendous 
bulwarks of the shore. The experiment, however, is 
not recommended to any but those whose heads are 
proof against dizziness; for should you, gentle " tourist,' 8 
unseasonably turn giddy during the descent, there will 
exist the strongest probability of your alighting in 



15 



infinitely less than no time flat upon the crown of your 
head, or rather, that of your hat, upon the beach ; in 
which event, two misfortunes will ensue ; first, the 
faultless symmetry of that exquisitely-formed " super- 
fine Paris nap " will be (should it not be one of the 
collapsible kind) irretrievably lost to society; and, 
secondly, your friends will ruin themselves in fruitless 
advertisements of " Augustus Marmaduke Plantagenet 
Smith is implored to return to his agonized family," 
while you are forming the subject matter of a cold 
collation to a select party of prawns upon the beach. 

At a turn in the road, some miles to the north of the 
Moher Cliffs, the isles of Arran, backed by the Conne- 
mara mountains, become visible, and the coast scenery 
grows very striking. A sharp scud of rain afforded 
me an opportunity of inspecting one of the cabins in 
this, the wildest part of Ireland, under the pretence 
of asking for shelter. The master of the house was 
out in his canoe, but his wife and sons shewed every 



possible sign of welcome, and as they spoke no English, 
extracted a youth from the recesses of a pile of nets, 
to interpret. The eldest son, a fine young fellow of 
about eighteen, boasted only a shirt, apparently formed 
of a portion of an old sail, and affording very limited 
accommodation to his person, hardly down to his knees. 
The poor people offered all the provisions they had, 
consisting of some bits of dried fish, whose appearance 
was not at all calculated to whet the appetite. When 
the storm ceased I took my leave, and dropped a 
sixpence into a mug, to the great dissatisfaction of the 
hostess, who intimated that they were very glad to see 
me, and did not wish for any leturn. I explained 
through our interpreter that the small present was not 
intended as a recompense for their kindness, but was 
given in compliance with a sort of superstitious custom 
we had in England of wishing good luck to a house — a 
flat but amiable fib, and pardonable if not commendable 
under the circumstances. A solemn conclave was 



17 



then held, and the great financial question of the 
propriety of keeping the fortune was debated in Irish 
in a sort of family "committee of the whole house" 
with great earnestness, which resulted eventually in 
the return of the miserable battered sixpence in set 
diplomatic form, with many expressions of gratitude 
for the intended liberality. Finding me, however, 
inexorable on the subject, they were at length persuaded 
to keep it, and manifested such unqualified rapture 
over their treasure, that I heartily regretted the present 
had been so shabby. The small interpreter was 
directed by his mother to inquire my address, in 
order that they might send an indefinite amount of 
lobsters in some acknowledgement of their debt. 
Not content with heaping every imaginable blessing 
on my undeserving head in the cabin, they all came 
out into the road, and continued to shoot valedic- 
tory vollies of blessings at me from behind, as I pro- 
ceeded on my journey. Nor was this all, for after walk- 



18 



ing about half a mile, I heard a pattering of small feet 
behind, and was overtaken by the duodecimo interpreter 
in a luminous state of perspiration from the rate at which 
he had run, and very gaspy and inarticulate from the 
same cause. He was the bearer of a present of two 
intensely scarlet fish, which must, to all appearance, 
have strayed from the Red Sea. Such objects certainly 
were never seen in the British Museum, much less in 
Mr. Grove's shop, nor are they represented in any 
work on natural history with which I am acquainted. 
Cuvier would probably describe a being of this class as 
" ignicolor rubicundissimus ; " I should be disposed to 
adopt the definition of " a dreadful fact in icthyology, 
probably unique. " The blood-red liquids in the big 
bottles which make quite a conflagation in the windows 
of chemists' shops when the gas is lighted would have 
seemed the proper element for these glowing marvels 
of the deep. Any one who may happen to have been 
a visitant of Bath some twenty years since will be 



19 



reminded of a spectacle then frequently to be witnessed 
in that curious vivarium of comic old ladies. Lady 
L. G. was resolutely determined to baffle the attacks of 
time upon the attractions of her person, so, as his 
effacing fingers swept the lines where, as she fondly 
hoped, beauty still lingered, she maintained an adventi- 
tious bloom of complexion by the liberal application of 
rouge. Time however continued to make his ruthless 
inroads on her mental as well as bodily condition, the 
consequence of which was that our friend tumbling 
occasionally into a sort of intellectual coma, plastered, 
during a fit of mental abstraction, one cheek with a 
multiplied series of strata or layers of pink powder, 
thus working it up into a startling state of florid 
radiancy, while the other portion of her physiognomy 
remained in its dreary, dry, and weazened sterility ; a 
mistake analogous to that of cockney sportsmen who 
have a dangerous weakness for ramming three quarters 
of a pound of powder, with wadding and shot in 

c 2 



20 



proportion, into one of the spouts of a double-barrelled 
gun, and charging the other with nothing whatever, so 
that they and their friends are only saved from 
destruction through the happy fatality that our 
sportsman in such cases always happens to omit the 
cap, or else marks down his game with deadly accuracy 
with the empty tube. This is a digression, but the 
fish reminded us so vividly of Lady L** and the pink 
halo which floated round one of her ears when an 
undue concentration of juvenility on one side of her 
face had occurred, that I was obliged to stop our walk 
to draw a small vignette of her. But to return to the 
fish; they were too big to hang on one's watchchain as 
odd little charms, and it must have been indeed a 
person of a desperately bold and reckless temperament 
who could have contemplated such objects with any 
views of their adaptation to human sustenance. 

Though persuaded to retain the fish for home con- 
sumption, nothing could dissuade the small boy from 



21 



constituting himself guide along the road. He seemed 
to think it perfectly impossible for any one to find the 
way through a strange country, and he looked upon a 
pocket map of Ireland with utter and infinite mystifi- 
cation, considering it as one of the highest developments 
of science, to be regarded with admiration not unmingled 
with awe. We soon arrived at a city (of imposing 
grandeur for that part of the world) consisting of a neat 
little white house, three or four huts, and a pigstye or 
so. The city, the guide said, was called Doolin, and the 
grand house belonged to Major Macnamara. "Shure 
and did ye niver hear of Major Macnamara and Doo- 
lin!" "Is the Major at home, and will he give us a 
'taty for luncheon?" "Ah! faith now, he's gone to 
Dublin to the Parliament." It is impossible to assert 
that the good people of the West of Ireland are frantic 
for " repale," as some of the agitators would have 
us believe, since the news of the Union has not yet 
reached them ! 



22 



My companion evinced an animated interest in the 
investigation of the habits of that unknown animal, an 
Englishman, and kept up a rapid fire of questions as to 
what we ate and drank, and what our houses were like. 
"Smoke baccy, Sir?" " Yes." " Shure now I daresay 
you do." This he evidently considered as the very 
acme and climax of refined and luxurious enjoyment. 

Nothing could induce our small friend to turn home- 
wards, though he had already come some miles, and the 
exceeding brevity of his legs rendered rapid locomotion 
an arduous exercise. The day, however, was getting 
on, and the attainment of Galway by nightfall fading 
into very dim perspective, so it was quite necessary to 
commence progression at the business-like pace of up- 
wards of five miles an hour. The small satellite, how- 
ever, not yielding to expostulation on the question of 
turning back, a resort to stratagem became necessary, so 
as we passed a cabin where certain apples were displayed 
in the window for sale, I got him to come in, and 



23 



having purchased the whole stock for a few halfpence, 
and stuffed them into his cap, intimated to the mistress 
of the house that she was to consider him as her 
prisoner, and that he was by no means to be released 
from incarceration for some time, to prevent the 
possibility of his again overtaking me. The woman 
executed her commission faithfully, so the small boy 
was detained, to fall, it is to be feared, on his way 
home, a victim to cholera, if he attempted to consume 
his indigestible apples, or, if he should recklessly sup 
on his fiery fish, to perish by internal combustion. 

The coast along the north-west corner of Clare is a 
stony wilderness, dotted at intervals with the ruins of an- 
cient castles, and with the curious old pillar-like towers 
which are said to have been temples to the sun. The 
dilapidated remains of deserted cabins, originally 
formed of loose stones piled up, were plentiful ; but for 
many weary miles there was nothing in the shape of a 
tenanted human habitation, so that the lights of the 



24 



town of Galway, coming suddenly into view at a turn 
in the road, were a cheerful spectacle. Nearing a small 
town, with the violently Irish name of Ballyvaghane, I 
was joined by a man, who said he had been bailiff to 
the Duke of Buckingham before his grace's estates 
in this part of the world had been sold up. He accom- 
panied me as far as the town. This bringing you on 
your road by walking with you is a very common atten- 
tion paid to travellers in this part of the world. My 
friend assured me that the sailors of Ballyvaghane 
would be most glad to take me across to Galway for six- 
pence, which would not have been a dear bargain, seeing 
that the distance was nine Irish miles (i.e. something 
between eleven and fifteen English) ; for an Irish mile, 
whatever it may be described to be in printed tables, 
is as vague and undefined a measure as a German 
stund, which is estimated with reference to various 
combined considerations, embracing the state of the 
roads, the gradients of the hills, the progressive capa- 



25 



bilities of the calculator's legs, or those of his horse's, 
the distance to be traversed (as learnt from observations 
of the number of pipes involved in its completion), 
the state of the driver's temper, the squeezibility of 
his fare's purse, etc., etc. In addition to the length of 
the passage, the night had just come on very dark, and 
the wind had risen to what the sailors call " a double 
gale," so that though I wished to get on to Gal way 
and rejoin my luggage, (the whole stock actually with 
me consisting only of a hard little green apple, re- 
served from those given to the small boy), the probabi- 
lities of being starved or frozen to death while beating 
about in the bay of Galway, seemed very great. When 
told that the poor fishermen would have been delighted 
to take me across the bay for sixpence, though it would 
have required quite a large cutter, with at least two or 
three men to manage it, remembering also what infi- 
nite pleasure the sixpence had given to the poor family 
in the morning, it made one reflect on the iniquity of 



26 



giving a guinea or more for a stall for the Huguenots, 
when the money otherwise expended might be the 
means of conferring absolutely endless quantities of 
happiness on a great number of one's fellow- creatures. 
Ballyvaghane boasted a car, which was speedily put in 
requisition. Its personal appearance did not inspire much 
confidence, as it was a decidedly rough and rickety insti- 
tution, and appeared to have certain constitutional 
idiosyncracies of a paralytic tendency, which were 
anything but encouraging (the quadruped in the 
shafts we'll talk about presently); and the driver 
was a regular wild-looking "Galway boy." We 
started without any particular eclat to speak of, for 
the thing in the shafts (a quadruped so indescribable 
that it can only be designated as "a gloomy fact") 
evinced a clear repugnance to the expedition, and we 
were nearly driven to the extremity of applying a hot 
poker cm derriere as a persuader. However, it thought 
proper at last to move, and advanced (we cannot say 



27 



trotted or walked, or, by any means, cantered) down 
the street by a peculiar jerky process of progression 
(a movement much more staccato than andante) like 
what horsedealers call " going very fumbling." The 
charioteer, on being applied to for an explanation, 
said, " Faith, Sir, I turned her out in the field for an 
hour or two, and she's all full o' green grass." Our 
road lay over the bleakest and stoniest of bare 
hills ; it came on very dark, with occasional storms 
of rain, and a piercing north-east wind blew, like what 
Shelley (I think) somewhere or other describes as 

"A northerly whirlwind roaming about 
Like a wolf that has smelt a dead child out." 

The driver appeared to find it coolish, though im- 
mersed up to the eyes in comforters and great coats r 
while I, wretched being, was in the lightest walking- 
costume, and had no exterior wrap, and what was worse, 



28 



was destitute of interior fortification against cold. At the 
end of an hour or so, our wretched quadruped, having 
given several premonitory symptoms of its intention in 
that respect, stopped definitively, and was totally 
inexorable under expostulation and chastisement as to 
a change of its views on the subject. So it seemed 
as if it was to be a case of " Mr. Erie's carriage stops 
the way," for ever afterwards. I therefore remarked 
to the driver, "Far be it from me to cause your mare a 
dyspepsia by pressing her forward after her plethora of 
grass, but allow me to remark, in a purely general 
manner, and without suggesting the disturbance of 
whatever arrangements she may consider to be most 
desirable with reference to her private convenience, 
that if we stop here, I shall certainly be frozen to death 
in a very short time, and then you will inevitably lose 
your fare; " which dry, strictly matter-of-fact, and prac- 
tical view of the subject appeared to strike him in a 
forcible light ; for after a lavish expenditure of strong 



29 



adjuration, he effected a move. It seemed to be my 
doom to experience every variety of disaster from the 
perversity of horses ; for only a month or two before, 
I had nearly fallen a victim to the vagaries of a runa- 
way horse at Oxford (beware of University hacks in 
the long vacation ! ) and after having been nearly com- 
pelled to swallow a set of front teeth, through the 
kicking of that odious quadruped, was detained some 
time in fishing up the mingled broken pieces of a 
friend and gig from a muddy ditch. We arrived at 
last at Kinvarra, as cold and wet as jelly fishes, and so 
dissolved and limp that we might advantageously have 
been hung over the back of a chair to dry. The hotel 
at Kinvarra aspireth not to the dignity of a sign: it is, 
in fact, a small grocer's shop, in a very limited sphere of 
commercial action, whose proprietor takes in lodgers. 
It had been described to me as " Faith, an 'tis a very 
excellent hotel ; maybe y'ell get some mate there ! " a 
recommendation which, unfortunately, was not borne 



30 



out by actual experience, in respect of the meat. The 
landlord, however, was very hospitable ; he lighted a 
fire in a sort of 12mo. whitewashed bin or pew behind 
the shop, called the parlour, and came in with his 
little girl to talk to me. I took the earliest opportunity 
which politeness allowed, of hinting at tea and whiskey, 
so mine host went off to see about it, leaving the small 
Miss Leonard, such was her name, to assuage the pangs 
of hunger by her society. She volunteered to come and 
sit on my knee in the most engaging manner, but I 
blush to relate that such was the rampant state of my 
appetite, as to make me feel horribly inclined to make 
what the author of " A Voyage to the Mauritius and 
Back " calls " a New Zealand acquaintance " with her; 
which he explains by the following anecdote : 

" You knew Smith ? " asked a polite settler of a 
friendly chief. 

" O yes, plenty well, I ate him ! " 

At last tea and whiskey came, and Miss Leonard with 



31 



drew to bed. I shortly followed, having ordered a car to 
go on to Gal way at 4.30 next morning. What my bedroom 
was like I am not prepared to state : nor how I got into 
bed, my recollections, and those very dim and sleepy, 
being confined to an appearance next morning, be- 
fore daylight, of Mr. Leonard with a lantern, very 
unshorn and unkempt, and slightly suggestive of Guy 
Fawkes, the pursuit of a toilet under difficulties, in 
which the little green apple did not prove a valuable 
auxiliary, and a sort of somnambulatory breakfast upon 
a small block of seed cake, and cold whiskey and 
water, and an all but bare bit of mutton bone, reminding 
one forcibly of the melancholy anatomical displays pre- 
sented by certain Bath spinsters 1 bare arms. When the 
car came round, Mr. Leonard himself mounted as driver, 
and it then transpired that the charioteer of the night 
before had arrived (notwithstanding the depth to which 
he was immersed in wrappers) nearly dead with cold ; 
and, the first instant that Leonard's back was turned, 



32 



he rushed to a cupboard where he knew the whiskey 
was kept, and rinding a bottle there about three parts 
full, drank it off straightway, and consequently was 
shortly afterwards found flat on his back on the floor, 
with his head pensively reclining on one side in a coal 
scuttle, and his face wholly divested of any intellectual 
expression whatever ; in a state, in short, of absolute 
coma, from which he had not as yet been resuscitated. 
We arrived at Galway without accident, after a long 
drive made pleasantly short by Mr. Leonard's conver- 
sation and stories. He deposited me at Killroy's 
hotel, where, having in the course of a five hours' 
drive through the sharp morning air, sufficiently for- 
gotten the spinster's arm, I proceeded to consider the 
expediency of making a second breakfast. After a 
protracted ringing at the bell, the dirtiest of all con- 
ceivable waiters appeared, with a pipe, terminated by a 
bowl of sufficient magnitude to be regarded as a young 
chimney, dangling from one corner of his mouth, and 



33 



received the expression of my desire for tea, etc., with 
calm and complacent nonchalance, as a general obser- 
vation on the part of a stranger, wholly unconnected 
with any possible influence on his existing private 
arrangements with respect to pipes, and it was not till 
after the application of a peremptory admonition that he 
was induced to manifest any interest in the matter. 
On observing the state of his hands, on which a strong 
crop of mustard and cress might have been raised, one 
couldn't help feeling rather disposed to offer a friendly 
suggestion that a course of energetic ablution would 
be attended with much enhancement of his personal 
attractiveness, and fraught with incalculable advantage 
to the general public. 

My luggage having arrived, I was shown into a bed- 
room for the purpose of making a more elaborate 
toilet than had been possible through the instrumen- 
tality of the hard little green apple at Kinvarra, and 
felt devoutly thankful to the Fates, on beholding the 



34 



covering of the bed, that my original intention of 
arriving at the hotel Killroy on the previous evening 
had been frustrated. The mere contemplation of the 
hatefully dirty and animated state of the counterpane, 
was enough to create a sort of admonitory feeling of 
cutaneous irritation. In bad inns, like the hotel Kill- 
roy, the " good entertainment for man and beast " 
which they profess to afford, is too frequently confined 
exclusively to beasts already on the premises. There- 
fore, gentle tourist, should you find yourself at Gal way, 
eschew the hotel Killroy, and take, as we did, the 
earliest train to Dublin. 



THE CHARITABLE TRUSTS AMENDMENT 
ACT, 1855. 

FURTHER AMENDMENTS AND OBSERVATIONS 

BY A GREAT FOOL. 

(from "The Charity Commission Warbler.") 



I. 

The preamble should run " Whereas every provision 
Of the Charity Trusts Act exciteth derision, 

Making law what was never intended ; 
And the sages who framed said ridiculous Act 
Were, like those who passed it, undoubtedly cracked, 

And it therefore requires to be mended. 

d 2 



36 



" And whereas the result of the impudent rout 
To learn what the vigorous Board is about, 

Has elicited ' Nothing whatever ! ' 
And knavish Trustees vote it capital fun, 
And the Times says that naught but the public is ' done' 

By the Board so surprisingly clever. 

in. 

" And whereas the ' Knights-errant ' (the title is right) 
Has thought it becoming to swear black is white 

(A theory quickly demolished), 
Appending a no less astounding assertion 
Intended, of course, for the public diversion, 

Be the said knight henceforward abolished. 

VI. 

" And whereas Mr. Good, and still more Mr. Vane, 
Both excellent officers, get, it is plain, 

* Mr. Knight, M.P. for West Worcestershire. 



37 



But inadequate remuneration ; 
Therefore be it enacted they each pocket clear 
The additional sum of a thousand a year, 

Quite due to their merit and station." 

v. 

We fear we are getting a little bit blind, 

For the clause above quoted we never could find, 

Though of course it must somewhere be in ; 
Since, otherwise, treatment so shabby and chary 
Of our able chief clerk and polite secre-tary, 

Would be quite a national sin. 

VI. 

Each Commissioner now is empowered to squeeze 
Information from parties who act as Trustees ; 

And if any bold fellow shall answer, " I 
Will see you hung first," or, " I'm bless'd if I do," 
Such cantankerous conduct he quickly will rue, 

Referred for correction to Chancery. 



38 



VII. 

And here, we'll observe, it's a very bad job, 
Should " the Bermondsey bruiser," or " Brummagem 
snob," 

Your head " into Chancery " get; 
For since you're no longer to cover your scalp able, 
He pounds it at leisure to powder impalpable ; 

But " the Court " is more merciless yet ! 

VIII. 

Whatever you do then, " keep clear of the law ! " 
Trust rather your head to that old lion's jaw 

He may overlook the intrusion : 
The feat was performed by the keeper, until 
Mr. Lion, by gulping his head like a pill, 

Brought the show to a hasty conclusion. 

IX. 

But this is digressing. A subsequent section 
Continues to charity funds the protection 



39 



Conferred in the year '53 ; 
A proper return and account must be sent 
Of moneys received, due and owing, and spent, 

So that now any cunning Trustee, 

x. 

Who, instead of employing the funds in his hands 
To meeting his cestui-que-trusts' just demands, 

Attempts their improper conversion 
To giving his wife or his daughters a treat, 
Or paying for grocery, candles, or meat, 

Will be subject to animadversion. 

XI. 

The College of William of Wykeham's foundation, 
And^Henry the Sixth's, from the Act's operation 

We observe with amaze are excepted ; 
So the Provost who looked very dismally blue, 
And the Warden, long kept in a deuce of a stew, 

Will chuckle, not being detected. 



40 



XII. 

We find as is usual that singular clause, 
Which, viewed as a joke, may elicit applause, 

And is christened the " interpretation :" 
The Act's misty language conjecture defies 
As to meaning, so this little section supplies 

The rules for its elucidation. 

XIII. 

We do not intend to peruse it we own, 
For a family likeness and sameness of tone 

Such clauses still characterises ; 
Thus " Black " shall herein be accounted as " white," 
And "wrong" shall be construed and held to mean 
"right," 

(Which ignorant persons surprises). 

XIV. 

" One and one shall make ten," " two and two shall be six," 
(Arithmetic borrowed from conjurors' tricks) 



41 



" True as " false " be accounted and taken ; 
The affirmative shall for the negative stand, 
And"all"shall mean "none,"" without" signify"and," 

And " correct " be translated " mistaken." 

xv. 

Whatever the words, in short, purport to say, 
Should, we find, be interpreted quite 'tother way ; 

Such cruel perplexities stop one : 
And so, as a little reward, at the end, 
To aid perseverance, we mean to append 

The following clause for adoption. 

XVI. 

" The man who in this, or indeed any, Act, 
(One cannot conceive such a genius a fact) 

Can spy any meaning whatever, 
Is a guesser much 'cuter than iEdipus (he 
Who took the shine out of the Sphinx), and shall be 

Accounted and deemed to be clever." 



42 



XVII. 

Now since people ask what the conduct should be 
To merit the praise of " A model Trustee," 

The Act should give this definition : 
" The Board never bother with foolish ' suggestions, 9 
Voluminous ' statements,' or troublesome questions, 

Or wearisome ' claims for partition.' 

XVIII. 

" The returns of accounts which are due in each year 
Cook as much as you like, only write 'em out clear, 

And see to their timely transmission ; 
Send with them some game, or some such little present. 
To render the Board, and your intercourse, pleasant, 

And to aid and support the Commission." 



THE CHARITY COMMISSION ALPHABET. 



DEDICATED TO THAT JOCULAR GENTLEMAN THE CHIEF COMMISSIONER, 



A is the Act setting up the Commission, 

Expounded in Finlason's useful edition. 

B is the Board who the Charities rout, 

And the Beer used to moisten their dull labour's 

drought. 
C represents our most excellent Chief, 
Who doubtless must find it a welcome relief 
The conveyancing pen to lay up on the shelf; 
We hear his appointment much praised — by himself. 



44 



D are our " Drafts." N.B. Not a game. 

E Mr. Erie, number two of that name. 

F that respectable man, Mr. Fry. 

G is our goose of a poet — that's I. 

H stands for Hill, Heath, Henry, and Hare ; 

I the inspectors, angelical pair ! 

J worthy old Joyce, and it also will fit 

Mr. Jones the Commissioner. K we omit. 

L the two Lees, the lean and the stout ; 

M are the Messengers darting about. 

N is nought. O the Oysters for luncheon we buy. 

P sober Price, in our estimate " high.' 1 

Q — what is Q ? Echo answers " Ah, what ? " 

R the Reports so tremendously fat. 

S are our Stipends, refreshing, though small ; 

T is The Times which abuses us all. 

U and V, quite as often united as twain, 

Distinguish our excellent friend H. M. Vane. 

The scene of our labours commences with W ; 



45 



To say what X designates sorely would trouble you. 
Y ; let me see ; gentle Reader, that's You ; 
Z indicates nothing I know of. Adieu ! 



FROM " THE CUCKFIELD POLITE 
INTELLIGENCER." 



We have much pleasure in recording the brilliant 
success which attended a meeting of the United Sussex 
Archers, held in the beautiful grounds of Warden 
Sergison, Esq., of Cuckfield Place, on Tuesday last, 
August the 30th. The picturesque character of the 
scene was enhanced by the syrenlike attractions of the 
Miss E — s, and embellished by the graceful presence 
of their amiable mother. Refreshments were spread 
at five o'clock in spacious tents, where the festive 
board was enlivened by the beaming smiles of the fair 
party we have mentioned, whose lustre shed a soft 



47 



halo around a magnificent display of cold pigeon 
pie, and down an extended avenue of boiled legs 
of lamb. The celebrated marksman Mr. Horatio 
Plantagenet Alexander Gubbins Smith was not so 
successful as usual, in consequence of his bow being 
too strong for him, so that his performances were not 
striking, at least not of targets. We overheard a 
gentleman who had been watching his proceedings for 
some little time, inquire with apparent innocence 
"Which target he was shooting at?" a question which, 
if intended to partake of pleasantry, conveyed a some- 
what harsh inuendo on the skill of the party addressed. 
An accident nearly occurred to ourselves from a gentle- 
man passing across the path of our editorial arrow 
just as we were about to launch that projectile from the 
string, so that he was within an ace of receiving it in 
the small of his back. We could not help thinking 
that his appearance, so perforated, would have been 
forcibly suggestive of the model swains which adorn 



48 



the corners of valentines. Our readers are doubtless 
acquainted with the figures to which we allude ; gentle- 
men profusely garnished with ambrosial whiskers and 
clustering hair, and elaborately got up to the very acme 
of fashion; that is to say, in unimpeachably glossy 
hats, very loud waistcoats, coats of imperceptible waists, 
trousers of violent patterns, very noisy neckcloths, 
acutely-poin ted boots, and straps so tight as to render 
the entertainment of any wild projects of locomotion a 
chimerical absurdity. Smiling blandly, however, over 
the feathers of an immense dart which projects from 
their bosoms at ladies in the opposite corner of the 
sheets, with an expression of tender interest. Meanwhile 
a cannibalo-culinary operation progresses in the centre 
of the scene on two unutterably red human hearts of 
the conventional form of that organ, poised miraculously 
on their tips, on a gas stove in the foreground. We 
speak advisedly as to the fact of the stove being a gas 
stove, since these mysteries of Cupid's cuisine are 



49 



always represented as being conducted on two pink 
flames, emanating from no perceptible fuel. A member 
of the Leamington Club was in attendance, and 
distinguished himself highly by his remarkable dress. 
He was attired completely in green, inspiring the 
beholder with the conviction that he must have been 
addicted to Vegetarianism, and that in course of time 
the vegetable element had so pervaded his system as 
to render even his coat and trousers of a cabbagey hue. 
We must own to having been possessed with a strong 
inclination to plant or graft him to ascertain whether 
anything so green could possibly fail to grow. We 
should have tried the experiment with little apprehen- 
sion of an adverse result. The archery, we understand, 
was followed by a ball, but our correspondent having 
unfortunately fallen asleep after the very large tea 
which his exertions of the afternoon involved, we can 
only state the general report that the party was 
brilliantly successful ; and that Miss J — e E.*s achieve- 



50 



merits on her "light bombastic toe" (as Mrs. Malaprop 
called it) eclipsed all her previous exploits on that illus- 
trious member ! We were concerned to hear of its 
being swelled next morning ; the tumefaction, however, 
soon yielded to local applications prescribed by its 
medical man, and eventually subsided. 



CCELEBS IN DIFFICULTIES. 



Young Ccolebs was a bachelor, a lawyer by profession, 
Aged — well never mind his age, he'd reached that of 

discretion, 
And being well set up in life, he thought he'd better 

try 
To form, if that were possible, a matrimonial tie ; 
And so (since we're his bosom friend) he came to us 

to choose 
Some very eligible neck o'er which to slip the noose, 

e 2 



52 



So down we sat to meditate ; we did not scratch our 

head. 
But, more politely, bit our lip until it nearly bled 
For not a few fair dames we knew, and all extiemely 

nice, 
Bat yet could not exactly hit the article precise. 

Our thoughts, of course, first turned to you, our 

most especial friend 
So gentle, kind, and pretty too, but there our praise 

must end ; 
Might we enquire without offence, How can you, dear 

Miss Gay, 
In reading light and silly trash pass all your time away ? 
With talents such as you can boast, will nothing else 

amuse 
But gossip weak and frivolous, and fashionable news ? 
Must we confess we sometimes long, e'en in your sweet 

society, 



53 



To talk a little plain dull sense, if only for variety ? 

An appetite for wholesome food one cannot always stifle, 

I\ T or feed one's thoughts with nothing else but syllabub 
and trifle : 

However, say what critics may, no Ccelebs " on pro- 
motion " 

Could learn that you had changed your name without 
some slight emotion. 

In you, Miss Nettlebed, we turn to quite another 

thing, 
Who, like your pungent prototype, art gifted with a 

sting. 
Your various accomplishments, your liveliness and wit, 
And all your power to fascinate, we readily admit. 
A hedgehog, viewed abstractedly, may be a pleasant 

fellow, 
Yet probably but few would choose to share such 

partner's pillow, 



54 



To clasp him to your " glowing breast" and feel the 

cruel pricks 
With unprovoked hostility that tender breast transfix. 
Like Damocles his mate will run the risk at every 

juncture 
Of getting, unexpectedly, a most distressing puncture - 
"A little tart" will often prove a dangerous comestible, 
Being such, you disagree with us, we vote you indi- 
gestible. 



Quite different is the fault we have to find with you, 

Miss Prood, 
You'll stare when told your crime consists in being 

much too good. 
On every careless thought and look you sternly put a 

stopper, 
And frown like night at every word that's not intensely 

proper. 



55 



But much do we enjoy a joke, and (such is our im- 
piety!) 

Don't relish one a bit the less that smacks of impro- 
priety. 

And therefore though your excellence may challenge 
admiration, 

We must confess it far beyond our taste or approbation. 

What shall we say of her in whom the various graces 

meet, 
But with the flowers there springs alas ! that odious 

weed, conceit ? 
You recollect the words, of course, about the seven ages, 
Where Shakespeare undertakes to prove that " all the 

world a stage is, 
And all the men," etcetera ; but our proud cynic's rule 
Is " all the world's a lunatic, and everyone a fool." 
But how is this Miss Juvenal; why that indignant 

frown ? 



56 



Does the cap fit ? d'ye recognize the portrait as your 

own ? 
Then ponder this — a saucy miss who wiser people snubs 
Is not esteemed a queen of hearts, although %4 a Quean 

of Clubs." 

An only daughter, like Miss Dott, we wisely must 

eschew, 
For he who gains the chick will have to wed the old 

birds too. 
Go where he will, this side the grave, they'll always 

come to stay, 
And soon return, if ever once they chance to go away. 

One can't help loving you Miss May, whose soft 

enticing face 
If once beheld would " cure sore eyes " (to use a vulgar 

phrase), 
If personal attractiveness were all that man required, 



57 



Your eminence in that respect " leaves nought to be 

desired." 
But such a guide through life's dark maze might hardly 

prove effectual, 
A pretty little waxen doll, and just as intellectual. 

46 Stay ! that will do ! " here Ccelebs cried, " a truce 
to condemnation, 

You seem to catalogue your friends for mere vitupera- 
tion ; 

To every one you name in turn you start some strange 
objection, 

Demolishing each peg on which I hoped to hang affec- 
tion ; 

Cannot a single one, forsooth, of all the charming dears 

Escape your impudent remarks and vile illnatured 
sneers ?" 

4, Now pray be calm and sensible," we said, " my 
worthy fellow, 



58 



We wish to save you from the fate which bothered 

poor Othello, 
' Tis better to consider well, and bear awhile to tarry, 
Than cry, as Shakespeare says he did, ' What a goose 

I was to marry ! '* 
Yet such delay, you shall not say, was caused by our 

advice, 
We've made a hit your case to fit with something extra 

nice. 
We might be jealous, had not our approach to that 

divinity 
(With honest pride we state the fact), been barred 

by consanguinity. 
Miss Jessie E. is nobly born, and adds to that a host 
Of elegant accomplishments which no one else can boast, 
Endued with charms no poet's pen, or painter's brush, 

could paint ; 

* We do not recollect at this moment the precise passage in 
which the words referred to occur. 



59 



The wit of Hood, the depth of Locke, the temper of a 

saint ; 
Whole tribes and troops of nice young men have tried 

without success 
To win her hand, yet still your suit she possibly may 

bless ; 
We wish you heartily good luck, and when youVe 

fixed the day, 
We'll come and help to cut the cake, or give the bride 

away." 



A party of ladies and gentlemen frequenting the 
Marylebone Gardens having established a periodical 
publication under the title of " A Bouquet from Mary- 
lebone Gardens," the promenaders in the Chester 
Terrace Garden conceived the notion of setting up a 
similar subscription magazine, the contributors to which 
were to write under the names of different vegetables, 
as those who sent their effusions to the " Bouquet " 
did so under the names of various Jiowers. 

Model Circular. — ''Vegetable Marrow" presents 

its compliments to Miss and requests that she 

and her family will join a society of ladies and gentle- 
men who frequent the Chester Terrace Garden, in 



61 



establishing a periodical magazine, the contributors to 

assume the names of different vegetables, and the 

publication to be called " The Nursery Garden." The 

prospectus of the first number is enclosed herewith as 

a specimen. 

Titles of the articles and the contributors thereof : — 

Sonnet — k4 Mine own my native land," Turnip radish. 

Historical Essay — " L'assassinat des haricots," 

French bean. 

Dirge— 44 The tear I forced to flow,*' . . . Onion, 

Descriptive Piece— " Sweet Auburn (not Gold- 
smith's,) .... Carrots. 

Autobiography — " Bubble and Squeak," Cabbage. 

Travels — (Miscellanea from Ireland) or " Irish Stew," 

Young Potaioe. 

Ode — " To my dear ducky," .... Green pea. 

Song — To the air of " Mine own blue bell my pretty 
blue bell," — ■" My own boiled leg my pretty boiled 
leg," Turnip. 



62 



Theological — " On the consumption of salt fish in 
Lent," Parsnip. 

Moral Philosophy — " Spring-tide the age of 
1 fools,' " • Gooseberry, 



A LEGEND OF ST. CLEMENT'S CAVES, 
HASTINGS. 



Note. — The author of the following poem (?) feels it 
necessary for his own justification to state that the 
account of its impromptu mode of manufacture is 
substantially true. He also desires it to be understood 
that he declines to be responsible for the escapades of 
which Mr. Smith appears to have been guilty when a 
very little boy, and that he regards with proper horror 
the revolutionary sentiments upon a delicate subject 
which that gentleman has the audacity to propound. 

Mr. Smith related the story to us in the following 
manner : — 



64 



In the year '46, and the month of December 
(What desperate tough things dates are to remember!) 
By chance, or more likely, agreement, there strayed 
A youth and a Miss from the Hastings Parade, 
But the day most ill-naturedly proving a pelter 
They sought, like iEneas and Dido, a shelter ; 
Not in African cave, goddess-made for their case,* 
But that of St. Clement, you all know the place. 
Its many dark windings they busily rambled through, 
Up divers impossible crevices scrambled too ; 
Then sang a duet, which the echoes repeating, 
In jolly full chorus acknowledged the greeting, 
And laughed, too, to such an alarming extent, 
That people outside could'nt think what it meant. 
They did'nt quite dance, but they rioted so, 
'Twas said that the ghosts had a party below. 
Old ladies supposed that an earthquake was brewing, 

* See ^Eneid, iv. 



65 



Or a pain in the bowels the cliff was undoing. 

44 Shocking ! Shame ! " Shrieks Some Sour Stiff Self- 
Satisfied Saint) 

" No chaperon ! caves ! ! evening ! ! ! O catch me, I 
faint!" 

Mr. Smith to the rescue, knight-errant-like, came, 
To snatch from the dragon a damsel's fair fame. 
44 Dear Madam, had we been the couple instead, 
I'd not have awaited your censure, but fled. 
We can't all be painfully strict as you'd wish us, 
Nor distant, cold, cautious, and always suspicious. 
And how fatally tame, I may add, as you know, 
Are folks everlastingly quite " comme il faut." 
Learn too, thou stern foe to unfettered society, 
4 Least ladylike people most preach of propriety ' 
I'm sorry to limit your spleen to a frown, 
But the names of the culprits shall never be known." 
At length said the lady, " I never could guess 



66 



What the origin was of this rocky recess ; 
' The smugglers ' they talk of, but if you ask me, 
I should to that notion say 'fiddle de dee.' 
But on this old cavern I often have mused before, 
What on earth, think you, people can ever have used 
it for? " 

" Perhaps some ill-favoured old ogre," said he, 
" In thraldom here kept a 4 fayre ladye ' like thee. 
But think what a field for a novelist's history, 
A suspicion of smugglers, a cave, and a mystery ! 
A scene ready laid, with a heroine in it ! 
One really feels almost obliged to begin it." 

" Well then," she replied, " manufacture a story, 
And strike a new light as improvisatore ; 
Indeed I have heard you're a bit of a poet, 
And this is a golden occasion to shew it." 

" My wits are like summer-cascades, ' on half-pay ;" 
But 'tis yours to command, and your slave's to obey. 
Something serious ? " 



6*7 



"Yes, something atrocious and frightful." 
4 A murder? or ' something still worser?' " 

" Delightful ! " 
" A tale then of violence, blood, and remorse — 
The smugglers you'd wish introduced? " 

" Yes, of course." 
"The metre?" 

" that must be serio-comical, 
And don't of strong adjectives be economical. 
So do not consider, but try it impromptu, 
And if you should stick I'll endeavour to prompt you." 
" Then sit by me here, that the close contemplation 
Of certain bright eyes may assist inspiration." 
So saying, he looked round the cave for a notion, 
But " took nothing at all (as they say) by his motion." 
Considered his boots from the heel to the toe 
In hopes that might help him, but found it "no go." 
His ear with a similar object then pinching, 
Much cruel self-torture he bore without flinching. 

f 2 



G8 



He scratched too (so say his detractors) his head. 
But we'll hope he did nothing so sadly ill-bred. 
Then squeezed up his fists till his knuckles go": white, 
By such self-devotion the Muse to invite. 
Devoutly he prayed her to come, but she wouldn't ; 
She was sulky, or possibly busy, and couldn't. 
Till a glance from the goddess who sat by his side 
New wings to his featherless fancy supplied ; 
Suggested a sketch of his history's plan, 
And thus into jingle prosaic it ran. 

Fair Hastings, from thy castled height 
Thou show'st in truth a peerless sight 

Of land and sea below ! 
Here, stretch old ocean's waters blue 
Far as the wandering eye can view 

That restless ebb and flow : 
While there, there shines a bright array 
Of villas trim and gardens gay, 



69 



And modest steeples rise. 
On east and west by rocky steep 
Protected from the winds' rough sweep, 
And in the midst embosomed deep 

The smiling city lies. 



Good are her dames, and fair as good, 

[lady blushes.] 
Her sons their careful livelihood 

Win labouring, scant and hard ; 
But, " to Content, enough, is wealth," 
And peace and happiness and health 

Their honest toil reward. 



Not such, fair Hastings, was thy face, 
Far other was the lawless race 
That once thy valley bore, 
A sullen and ferocious brood 



70 

Scarce tamer than the billows rude 
That lashed their native shore. 

'Mid such, by habit savage grown, 
Religion's rites were all unknown, 

Law's terrors all were vain : 
Still ready toil and risk to bear, 
And each bold enterprise to dare 

So they might plunder gain. 

Extending round in many a row 
Of smoky hovels, dark and low, 
The overhanging cliff below, 

Their wood-built city stood. 
No fisher there his meshes dried, 
No fisher's wife her needle plied, 
Each labouring anxious to provide 

Their honest toil-earned food : 
But in his den close-hid by day 



71 



The bold and cunning smuggler lay, 

And schemes for darkness planned : 

Others, meanwhile, explored the coast 

To plunder, should some vessel lost 

'Mid the sharp rocks, and shoreward tossed, 
Lie wrecked upon the strand. 

" Fair Muse," said the Poet, "how like you the verse? 
I'll bet you six bouquets you never heard worse. 
The key that I sing in could scarcely be flatter, 
But 'tis hardly less dismally dull than the matter/' 

" I forgive it ; but now you must draw np the curtain, 
The night must be stormy, the moonlight uncertain ; 
The shrieking of ghosts the late traveller fright'ning ; 
Then discover your hero in flashes of lightning, 
With a knife, and a look very guilty indeed, 
All armed to the teeth, and — etcetera — proceed." 

Night's deepening shadows gloomily 
Descended upon land and sea ; 



72 



The moon was up, but oft o'ercast 
By storm-scuds thickly hurrying past, 
Seeming as though with toil to force 
Against opposing crowds her course. 
Sometimes half-hid, her doubtful rays 
Scarce struggle through the uncertain haze ; 
Anon, all unobscured and bright, 
Streak the dark waves with glittering light. 
Thus twinkling rows of diamonds glow 
On Indian monarch's dusky brow. 
But where yon streak of light was cast 
See ! a dim speck its path hath passed 

'Tis making for the shore; 
So far ofT still, so small, so dark, 
The keen-eyed seabird scarce might mark 
On the dim plain of waves the bark 

Towards the coast that bore. 

Ever, as still the strand it neared, 



73 



Less and less dim its form appeared ; 

Now plainly seen when high uptossed 

On giant wave's broad back, now lost 

In some deep watery vale : anon 

A cliff-protected bay is won ; 

But scarce is heard the oar's still splash, 

Scarce heard the parting ripple's dash, 

So stealthily the vessel glides. 

So silently the wave divides, 

That, spectre-like, it seemed to creep 

As phantom born of troubled sleep, 

Or shade, which on the waters cast 

Is seen, flits noiseless, and is past. 

Sudden, when yet the grating keel 
The shallowing beach might scarcely feel, 
Light springing from her bows to land, 
That vessel's crew quick gained the strand. 
Then, hurrying to and fro, they bore 



74 



From the deep hull its freight to shore. 
At length, when now the lightened boat 
On the advancing tide might float, 
Her crew their labouring shoulders plied, 
And forced her downward to the tide : 
Some with a spring the deck have gained, 
The rest upon the beach remained, 
Watching the lessening spot, which back 
To open seas retraced its track. 

On the dark speck awhile they gazed, 
Then from the shore the pile they raised. 
Each to the task his labour lent, 
His brawny back each sailor bent, 
And when at length their shoulders broad 
Had each received their destined load, 
Formed in a band, with cautious pace, 
Up a dark vale their path they trace, 
Casting full many a glance abroad. 



75 



Lest hidden foe beset their road ; 
But listening ear and watchful eye 
No warning gave of danger nigh, 
And careful that no sound betray 
Unchallenged still they held their way. 

Full plainly might in him who led 

His trade and character be read ; 

A sailor, and, if fame spoke true, 

A smuggler, and a pirate too. 

And well seemed he by nature made 

To prosecute such desperate trade ; 

His countenance and carriage bold 

Of hardy resolution told ; 

Like wary sentinel, his eye 

Kept restless watch untiringly ; 

While his broad chest and strength of limb, 

His sullen look and visage grim, 

The knife that in his belt he bore, 



The ready pistols that he wore, 
And his rough bearing, showed him one 
That e'en the boldest well might shun 
To meet on cliff or seashore drear. 
If timely succour were not near. 

Besides all this too, busy Fame 

With rumours dark had marked his name. 

She told how one who strove to get 

The price that on his head was set 

Was missed, then found beneath the cliff 

A mangled corpse all cold and stiff. 

She whispered too that strange remorse 

For such ill- deeds his mind would cross 

Chief for his son, who once a child 

Of kindly heart and temper mild, 

By him all evil-daring taught, 

At length was, still scarce willing, brought 

To the same pass of guilt, and driven 



77 



From peace on earth, and hope in heaven. 



Now to the west their course is bent 
Towards the tall cliff's abrupt ascent, 
Where stones, and wood, and rocks amid, 
The doubtful track lay dimly hid. 
Up the steep pathway clambering slow 
They gain the mountain's craggy brow. 
There a low entrance access gave 
To a deep, sandy, darksome c<ive 
Which had (by nature formed in part) 
Been strengthened and enlarged by art. 
And well did seem that cavern planned 
For refuge of such lawless band, 
From storm and foe a safe resort, 
A castle, storehouse, home, and fort. 
But needless 'tis to paint it more, 
Thyself may'st still those caves explore. 



78 



And now, their load deposited, 
With welcome food the board was spread. 
Labour and fast a zest supplied, 
Right merrily their flasks they plied. 
The brawling oath, the boisterous joke, 
The cave's resounding echoes woke, 
And murmuring from the vaults profound 
Bore to the air a hollow sound. 

But silently and gloomily 
Their chief beheld their revelry. 
Some boding dread of coming ill 
His rising mirth would sternly chill. 
Wine no relief from trouble brought, 
No rest could give to anxious thought : 
Sudden he left the feast, to know 
If the night air might cool his brow. 

Pensively 'gainst a stone he leant, 






79 



On the thick gloom his gaze he bent, 
But nought in that deep shade e'en eye 
So keen and piercing might descry ; 
Till, as dividing clouds gave way, 
Was shot a solitary ray, 
Then all was dark ; but, where it shone, 
It gave to view an instant one 
In soldier's garb, and one who knew, 
Or traced, the secret pathway's clue. 
Hurried and still the smuggler breathed, 
His blade he silently unsheathed, 
Savagely muttering " whether spy 
He be, or enemy, he must die." 

That fatal watchman soon might hear 
The sound of cautious footsteps near ; 
Now nearer yet they come, and now 
Unerring he may strike the blow ; 
One hurried gash, a fall, a groan ; 



80 



And the dread tragedy is done. 

By such, dire horror undismayed, 
The murderer sheathed his dripping blade, 
And anxious to provide a grave 
Dragged the warm corpse within the cave. 
But when the slain approached the light, 
What vision dire appalled his sight ! 
Well might he start that face to see, 
Well might he quail, good cause had he 

To wish his deed undone : 
For in his bleeding victim there, 
His eyes in death's fixed ghastly stare, 
With livid hue, and clotted hair, 

The father knew his son ! 

44 Now really, Sir Poet," his auditor said, 

44 You're amply redeeming the promise you made; 



81 



Your verse is quite Scott-like, nay even Byronic, 
And the horrors (to coin an expression) ' Plutonic, ' 
But in spite of a tale of such fearful depravity, 
I own that your pathos much tested my gravity." 

" Be merciful, pray, gentle critic," he said, 
" Impromptu — remember— and lend me your aid ; 
I hoped you would shudder, or sigh, or look pale, 
Or at intervals faint, in the course of the tale ; 
But you took it quite coolly, indeed, all the while, 
I fancied I saw you repressing a smile, 
And if ever 1 warmed to a frenzy poetical, 
With one of your comical looks you upset it all." 

" Why I could'nt help thinking how he in disguise 
Must have found being stabbed an unpleasant surprise ! 
But why did he practise that funny deception 
Which caused him at home such a fatal reception ?" 

" You think that's a puzzle — indeed, so do I ! 
But of course I'll explain, if I can, by and by ;" 
(So as soon as his Wellingtons breathed inspiration, 



82 



The bard thus continued his broken narration.) 

The youth's dress and death's history 

Were to the band a mystery. 

'Twas thus ; returning late, he found 

The hill with soldiers circled round, 

And saw that outraged law at length 

Had now, though late, put forth its strength. 

Yet one endeavour would he try 

To warn his friends, or with them die. 

So, ere the guard his presence knew, 

Th' unwary sentinel he slew, 

And in his victim's clothing dressed 

Through hostile bands unchallenged pressed. 

The scheme so quickly formed and bold 

But half prevailed, the rest is told. 

On the dread sight which chained his gaze 
The smuggler looked in wild amaze, 



83 



And, save for sobs of hard drawn breath, 
His eyes and form seemed fixed in death. 
At length, with one one deep heavy groan, 
Forth from the cave he burst alone, 
And the dark pathway rushing down — 

[a pause] 
" Alas ! " said the poet, " What cruel ill luck ! 
In such a magnificent passage I'm — ' stuck ' 
For want of an ending with ' down ' that will chime — 
Sweet muse in a bonnet, fair promptress, a rhyme ! " 
" Let me see, there is ' brown ' ' out of town/ and 
' silk gown,' — 
I have it! (you want something grand) ' half-a-crown' " 

" In my purse, not my poems, it's proper position, 
The coin that you name is a great acquisition ; 
Its chink most refreshing of sounds, but the word 
In an epic romance would be rather — absurd. 
Meanwhile, we are leaving our friend in suspense, 
So pray do supply me a word making sense." 

a 2 



84 



" Why of rhymes I've suggested a great superfluity. 

" But to fit them would tax even your ingenuity ; 
We'll omit it. I only just wanted to say 
That in spite of the sodgers our friend got away ; 
So please will you take that for granted instead ? 
Or take it in prose, and I'll then ' go ahead.' " 

See where St. Clement's image rude 
From the live rock in pastime hewed 
On the cave's denizens looked down — 
(Time has not changed its stern cold frown) 
Under the figure's pedestal, 
Where the cave's darkest shadows fall, 
The startled gang in trembling fear, 
And active sense of danger near 
Scooped a rough pit in anxious haste 
Wherein the yet warm corpse they placed : 
And scarce was closed again the grave, 
Ere tramping soldiers filled the cave ; 



85 

Some short resistance was but vain, 
All were made prisoners or slain. 

" You contrive to bring home the illusion so nicely ! 

You've buried him just where we're sitting." 

" Precisely 

Hereabouts are his feet, and the tip of his nose is 

Pointing up to the place where your nymphship reposes. 

Though a sailor, no ' felo de se,' so I'm bound 

To deposit him safe in more Christianlike ground. 

So I think that I probably shall disinter him." 
"Well, I musn't sit heavily then in the interim." 
"He'll never ' get round "if you squeeze him quite flat • 

And (pardon my candour) you are rather — fat ! 

But we killed him quite dead, as you know, so attend, 

For my story is, happily, near to its end. 

Long years had left these caverns old 
Unchanged, though tenantless and cold ; 



86 



Till by some chance or fancy bred 

A rumour got abroad and spread ; 

Such tale as city gossips love 

To coin, then argue on, and prove ; 

The figure of the Saint, 'twas said, 

Marked where some buried wealth was laid. 

But searching carefully the ground, 

Nought but a skeleton they found. 

With pious rites all duly paid 

This in a churchyard near was laid 

Circling St. Clement's church, then just 

New built, now crumbling into dust. 

A few years more ; one morn 'twas said 

That by St. Clement's caves lay dead 

A grey old man, a stranger too, 

But whom, and whence he came, none knew. 

The burnt and furrowed face showed toil 

And hardship on some tropic soil : 



87 



And many a deep indented scar 
Tokened a share in strife or war. 
The vulgar curiosity 

Much marvelled his strange garb to see ; 
And gathered crowds looked on surprised, 
But none the smuggler recognized, 
Who, in his wild life's wane, at length 
Spent the few drops of ebbing strength 
Homeward his painful way to trace 
To the dread well-remembered place 
(By some strange fascination led) 
Where his son's blood his hand had shed. 

Close by the skeleton's fresh tomb 
They dug the stranger's narrow home ; 
Thus, when his weary course was run, 
He lay beside his luckless son. 
Two nameless and adjoining stones 
Mark where together rest their bones ; 



88 

United in a life unblest, 
United still by fate in rest. 

44 Many thanks for your lay, " said the lady in rising. 
4 * Your legend, in many respects, is — surprising. 
When I come to the throne you shall be Poet laureate.'* 

44 Nay, then I'll be king, or king-consort at any rate.'' 

M Good gracious ! 'tis six, we must hurry home 
straight ; 
I hadn't a notion 'twas getting so late. 
The name of the smuggler's left out of your myth." 

"To improve the romance shall we christen him 
4 Smith?' " 

44 But where was the heroine ? " 

" Omitted, I own ; 
Seeing you, I could think of one lady alone." 

44 In future I'll call you the Hastings Apollo : 
You beat the poetical Moses quite hollow ; 
Description so striking, so bold, picturesque, 



89 



And tragedy never approaching burlesque ! !" 
" Nay, jocular goddess, the glory be thine, 

For prompting such verse as would startle the Nine. 

" ' Vous voila ' at home then, or, Anglice, back you are, 

And we've had ' a nice lark ' (to adopt the vernacular)." 
" You'll dream of the horrible pictures you drew." 
" My dreams are enchanting, and always of yow." 
" Mama, I'm afraid will be vexed beyond measure." 
" Never fear, I will easily calm her displeasure. 

You can say you've "brought home a long ta(i)le," like 
the sheep, 

Of that pastoral gentleman. Little Bo Peep. 

You'll ride with us, wont you, tomorrow ? now do ! 

We've ordered our steeds at eleven. Adieu ! " 



A TRAGEDY IN REAL LIFE. 



Miss Snouty was lady-like, gentle, and sweet, 
Good tempered, accomplished, and witty ; t 
To look at her only was voted a treat, 
And even the people she met in the street 
Would exclaim sotto voce " how pretty ! " 

But alas what mishaps do our fortunes derange ! 

What crosses our welfare dispel ! 
Calamities fall on us sudden and strange, 
And as tempests the ocean's calm bosom derange, 

So our Miss lost her peace in a " swell.'" 



91 



Now I don't mean a swell of the nature wot loves 

Loud patterns in fierce combinations, 
In a glossy jet hat, unimpeachable gloves, 
And (which a good tailor especially proves) 

Symmetrical " continuations." 

No ! 'twas thus. When our damsel one morning arose 

She scarcely could credit her eyes ; 
So tragic a wonder I grieve to disclose 
But the truth will come out — only fancy ! her nose 

Was treble it's natural size ! 

What cause to assign to so dreadful an ill 

Was puzzling, as well as distressing ; 
And what was yet worse, it kept growing on still, 
And had swelled to the size of a pelican's bill 

By the time she had finished her dressing. 

Before too, whenever she happened to sneeze 
The effect had been richly melodious ; 



92 



But now 'twas a husky spasmodical wheeze 
Uncertainly rambling through various keys 
In a manner decidedly odious. 

I wish I could say that the nob had decreased,. 

But as yet tisn't visibly shrunk ; 
So the Snouty resembles that singular beast 
The " Tapir nasutus " (so Cuvier) at least 

In respect of her queer little trunk. 

However its medical men do not fear 

But 'twill shrink to its proper dimensions; 

When that great event shall have happened, we hear 

The particular object will fully appear 
Of Lord SyvilTs especial attentions. 






93 



ECONOMICAL CONSIDERATION. 






From Basel to Kehl 

Is a capital sail, 
And the banks of the river divine ! 

But alas the expense 

Must, of course, be immense 
Of " coming down strong with the ' Rhin(e)-0.' " 



REFLECTION IN STEYNING CHURCHYARD. 



Requiescatis in pace, good folks ! 
And though such a scene is no subject for jokes, 
I trust since in Steyning your lives were all passed 
That you failed not in dying yourselves well at last. 



94 



IN COMPTON CHURCHYARD, NEAR WINCHESTER, 

IS A STONE SLAB IN THE PATH TO THE MEMORY 

OF CATHERINE TROD. 

EPIGRAM ON THE ABOVE. 



Under this sod 

Lies Catherine Trod, 
O press on her grave but as light air I 

So tranquil a sleep 

(Just seven feet deep) 
'T would be cruel to spoil by a nightmare. 



QUESTION. 

How does a bantam differ from a dirty housemaid ? 

ANSWER. 

One is a domestic fowl, and the other is a foul 
domestic. 



VALENTINE. 

ADDRESSED TO A LARGE YOUNG LADY FAMILIARLY 
KNOWN BY THE NICKNAME OF " THOMPSON." 



The elephant's prodigious hulk 
(The jungle when he romps on) 

Resembles thee in weight and bulk 
O stout substantial Thompson ! 

The workman, when the pavement laying, 
The stones he rudely thumps down 

Recalls thee, the piano playing, 
Melodious — clever — Thompson ! ! 



96 



That lovely face in size so grand 
In dreams extatic haunts one ; 

Bestow on me that fine large hand 
Extensive- — stalwart — Thompson ! ! ! 



Be mine ! and in a luggage train 

I'll try to get thee home soon, 
Stuff thee and put thee in a case 

Most ornamental Thompson ! ! I ! 

[ With a design for a curtain ring large enough 
to wed Thompson's stout finger toi/h.] 



VALENTINE. 

IMPROMTU (IN THE FLORIDO-FOOLISH STYLE 
OF ARCHITECTURE.) 



Would it were mine, dear maid, to sip 
(Binding thy neck with Cupid's chains) 

The crystal nectar from thy lip, 
Quintessence sweet of sugar canes. 

See ! to blissful love inviting 

Lo ! the tender gentle doves, 
Emotions soft their hearts uniting, 

Flit among the emerald groves. 



98 



Yes ! thy feeling heart, like mine, 
Pierced with Cupid's darts I see ; 

O be my gentle Valentine ! 

Fol de dol diddle dol, fol diddle dee. 



ffipisiks Jtbkatorg. 



TO M. E., 

WITH A VIENNESE BRACELET, INSCRIBED 
" GOTT SCHUIiTZE DICH." 



May you, my dear Mary, I pray, 
Be boundlessly happy and rich, 

And prosperous, that is to say 

Germanice, " Gott schujtze dich." 

h 2 



100 
TO AN OLD FRIEND 

WITH SOME VIENNESE SLIPPERS. 



We often are told that the rose 
Is never found free from a thorn : 

The like might be said of some toes 
Eternally vexed with a corn. 

Should those petty miscreants tease you 

And make it a labour to skip. 
May these little soft slippers ease you, 

And through life may you pleasantly trip. 



TO THE RECTOR OF 



WITH A MINIATURE OF A LADY ON DRESDEN CHINA. 



To that learned Divine we have brought 
A beauty from Dresden — on china — 

And (though I shouldn't say it) could aught 
Be possibly painted diviner r 



101 

If such were discovered existing 
With charms so angelic and rare, 

Our Rector might fail in resisting, 
Though as yet unsubdued by the fair. 



TO * 

WITH AN AUSTRIAN STEEL BRACELET. 



Enclasped with this bracelet of Austrian steel 
Very much like a pickpocket handcuffed you'll feel, 
But should you, in fact, ever get into gaol, 
Just tip me a line and I'll furnish you bail. 



TO A DISTINGUISHED CONVEYANCER 

WITH A BOHEMIAN TUMBLER. 



When wearied with drawing of deeds let a " draught " 
Of a different kind from this tumbler be quaffed, 



102 

For depend on it, nothing like porter or stout 
Of dry legal documents moistens the drought, 
And often the potion such extacy follows 
That dry old conveyancers come out Apollos. 



TO N. E. 



WITH A RING INSCRIBED " GOTT SCHULTZE DICH 



ja 



My very dear Nelly, to you 

I always will faithfully stick 
As close as this ring — now adieu ! 

And amen ! to its " Gott schiiltze dich. ,r 



TO JESSY 



WITH A SILK PURSE FROM PARIS. 



A purse, my dear Jessy, I send, 
And hope that abundance of riches 



103 

Will always, as fast as you spend, 

Fill up, and keep straining, its stitches. 

But should the exchequer grow tight, 
As it's always too ready to do, 

Let me know, and my very last mite 
I'll devote with great pleasure to you. 



TO- MR. H. J. 



WITH A RED GLASS GOBLET. 



My very good friend, a goblet I send 
Wherein you your toddy may brew, 

And stealing its dye pale whiskey will vie 
With the grape's rich and deep ruddy hue. 



104 

And each happy day at Millhall when you stay, 
You shall have a magnificent bumper, 

Yet not one but a throng, hot, spicy, and strong, 
Because you " a regular trump " are. 



TO H. M. VANE 



WITH A SIMILAR PRESENT 



Dear Vane, Some Bohemian rubbish (a tumbler) 

To you I beg leave to present, 
And perhaps though the offering could not be humbler 

You may not disapprove what is meant ; 

Which is this, that in changing the Barrister's trade 

For working upon our commission 
I find that acquaintance with you to have made 

Has proved an immense acquisition. 



105 
TO THE SAME 

WITH A BASKET OF PRAWNS. 

(IMPROMTU IN A FISHMONGER'S SHOP ) 



The flavour of prawns 

No epicure scorns 
And therefore a basket to Vane is sent ; 

And with them the wish 

Is breathed, that the dish 
May prove, through it's goodness, evane-scent. 



EPITAPH ON MY UGLY DOG " ROSE." 



'Neath this sod, where the soft purple hyacinth blows, 
And the dew-spangled meadow-grass springs fresh 
and green, 

Rest the bones of my faithful companion, poor Rose, 
The ugliest creature that ever was seen. 

So hideous the hue of her snuff-coloured hide, 
So shapeless her head, and so little wit in it, 

That her master's acquaintances constantly cried 

" Were that horrid dog mine I would hang it this 
minute." 



107 



Then I smiled; for, our language could dogs understand, 
How bravely, old friend, you'd have answered and 
said, 

" My master would sooner cut off his right hand 

Than harm one small hair of my rough grizzled head." 

How much you were cared for when living, you knew, 
And now you have come to a tranquil late end, 

If still your old master your spirit may view 

It sees that he mourns for a much valued friend. 

For O ! the deep spring of abundant affection 

Which filled all your dog's-heart full up to the brim ; 

Your eyes ever waiting your master's direction, 

Your thoughts, hopes, and wishes, all centered in 
him ! 

How you courted and welcomed a word or caress 
With bright grateful eyes and intelligent look ; 



108 



More earnest deep feeling one glance could express 
Than all the thick leaves of a folio book. 

And shall such attachment which thrills through the 
nature 

Of aught that exists, silly ridicule move ? 
No ! such feelings, though ever so humble the creature, 

Are breathed by a Spirit that comes from above. 

And to you, my poor dog, I was bound by the tie 
That your heart was the only one wholly my own, 

And I feel, as I turn from the spot where you lie, 
That in more than my walks I am henceforth alone. 



THE END. 









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